


Bother

by osheamobile



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Askbox Fic, Bother Bother Bother Bother Bother Bother Bother Bother Bother, F/M, Fluff, Potter Puppet Pals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-22
Updated: 2015-12-22
Packaged: 2018-05-08 11:30:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5495552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/osheamobile/pseuds/osheamobile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A quiet evening in the common room. Set during Order of the Phoenix.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bother

**Author's Note:**

> An Askbox Fic Request.

When Harry went to bed, complaining of a headache, Hermione didn’t comment on it. She very _pointedly_ didn’t comment on it, because one can only be screamed at so many times in a year, thank you very much.

She did, however, exchange glances with Ron, who had gone slightly pale. He started to mouth the words “Is it–” but she shook her head furiously at him. He shot her an annoyed look, but stayed silent and waited.

It had been a rough year at Hogwarts, and it wasn’t even October yet. Harry caught the worst of it, they could both see that quite plainly - with the Prophet merrily circulating its libel, the student body clearly taking it at face value, and not to mention the frustration of that summer’s events and his forced sequestering, Harry was clearly at his wit’s end, and both Hermione and Ron were walking on eggshells to avoid another explosion.

They were still worried, though. Of course they were worried. They were his best friends, regardless of any life-threatening situations they may have gone through and would probably continue to go through in the future.

Hermione sighed and pulled out her misshapen knitting. Despite the books she had read at home, she still didn’t quite have the hang of it. The theory was sound, she knew - knit one, purl two, alternate rows - but it wasn’t exactly something that academic research could help with, aside from providing the base for different patterns. And while she had the technique down for earflaps, the real trouble lay in keeping the rest of the hat from stretching on one side. This left the rest of it lumpy, but she kept on, because some things were  _important_.

Ron shook his head. “Really, Hermione, I don’t know why you still bother with that. They’re _happy_. And I’m happy not to spew.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes. “S.P.E.W.,” she corrected, for what seemed like the millionth time. A satisfied grin flashed over his face, and she scowled in return. “And they are _not_ happy, Ron. They’re _slaves_. They’re conditioned to think that way, without even being given the option. Look at Dobby–”

“ _Dobby_? He’s a complete nutter! How can you not see that?”

“He’s delighted to be _free_ , Ron. Wouldn’t you act that way if you were in his position?”

Ron crossed his arms with a harumph. “I’m _not_ in his position.”

“That’s my point! You’re not a house elf. You don’t know what it’s like, so you can’t speak for them.” Hermione brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes (okay, a lock of hair) (okay, a _frizzled tangle_ of hair).

Ron was silent for a moment. Then he glared at her. “You don’t know what it’s like to be a house elf either.”

Hermione had no response to that. Not that he was right. He _absolutely_ wasn’t right. She’d just think of a biting retort later, and for now just settled for a withering glare. “If you’re not going to help with S.P.E.W. duties, then stop bothering me.”

Ron’s eyebrows rose so far that she thought they’d disappear into his shaggy bangs. “I’m not bothering you, Hermione. Would you like me to? I can definitely bother you if you like.”

“What do you–”

“Bother.”

Hermione was struck speechless. She just stared at him as he grinned, and not for the first time was reminded of how much he actually was like his brothers.

“Bother bother bother.”

He was standing in front of his chair now, waving his arms like a complete lunatic.

“Bother bother bother bother bother bother bother–”

She growled at him. “Enough!”

She focused intently on her hat, pulling the stitches way too tight, but she really didn’t care right that second. She went through an entire row before she looked up to see him towering over her, his finger hovering just inches away from her forehead. As she watched in horrified curiosity, he leaned forward and tapped her gently on the nose.

“Bother.”

He got a faceful of hats, laughed, and ran away.

Naturally, she gave chase, the summer’s completed hats held tightly in her arms, no longer freedom tickets for beleaguered servants. They were ammunition, and she darted between the tables and chairs, pelting him with tangled yarn. Some of these he caught, throwing back in her direction, but years of being friends with Harry Potter had taught her a lot about how to not get hit with airborne assaults, and she dodged them with ease.

She eventually caught up to him, using her smaller frame as leverage to trip him and direct his fall into the big sofa in front of the fireplace. She fell on top of him, laughing, shoving hats into his face.

“Alright, Hermione, alright, geroff already!” Ron was pink in the face from the exercise, and glaring at her in mock affront.

“Say it! I won, you lost.”

“You won, okay? You won, I lost.”

Hermione grinned, not moving from her position. “And S.P.E.W. is the best.”

“What?”

“Say it!”

Ron rolled his eyes. “And spew is the best, alright?”

She let go of the hats and met his eyes. The fire crackled merrily in the hearth, but it went forgotten as they stayed frozen on the sofa, her body directly on top of his. She felt her face get warm, and she saw his ears tinge pink.

The creaking of the stairs to the boy’s dormitory alerted them that they were no longer alone. Hermione jumped up and away from Ron, whirling around to see Harry at the top of the stairs, half a glass of water in his hand. He was staring very intently at a spot on the wall, a funny expression on his face.

“Harry,” said Hermione, her face now completely flushed. “Are you having trouble sleeping still? Did Dumbledore–”

“No,” said Harry, his voice cold. “Just the headache. Do you have anything I can take? I don’t want to bother Madame Pomfrey this late.”

Hermione rummaged through her bag for a small bottle and brought it over, ignoring Ron’s muttered “Muggle medicine”.

They all stood around for a moment, not saying a word.

“Thanks,” Harry said after a while. “Well, good night.” He turned and went back upstairs, leaving Hermione and Ron alone again.

She went back to her chair and studiously began her hat where she left off. This was slightly more vexing than it should have been, given that the impromptu battle had tangled the yarn even further than it already was. She glanced up at Ron, but he was turned away, stubbornly blundering through his Potions homework, which she definitely wasn’t going to break down and offer to do for him this time. No. Absolutely not.

As if feeling her gaze upon him, Ron turned around, gave her a soft smile, and whispered a word. Though it was too quiet for her to hear properly, she understood it right away.

“Bother.”


End file.
